Obsession"
by scylla
Summary: We all know Ginny is pitifully obsessed with our young hero, Harry Potter. Do we know the depth of her obsession? When Ginny gets her hands on a potion that makes Harry think she's someone she's not, what will she do? ^.^ Oh, and Draco is in it, also! R/R


Er, okay, this is sort of sad, since Ginny is so awfully obsessed. Oh well. I think this is a G/D. Possibly G/H. Not quite sure. Please R/R ^.^  
  
Ginny Weasley sat there, her eyes fixed intently on the back of Harry's head. A strip of white showed above the collar of his robes, just below another strip of dark, unruly hair. Ginny had studiously memorized the back of his neck. She had stared at it so often as she sat there in the mornings, eating breakfast but not paying attention to what she was actually eating. If she closed her eyes and pointed at his neck, her finger could have found the single freckle on it, no problem. If she closed her eyes and thought hard, she could see each hair, almost perfectly defined.  
  
The back of his untidy head was nothing more than a patch of stubborn black cowlicks, but it had its appeal. Ginny bit her lip and stared meaningfully at her plate, finding it easier to listen to Harry's conversation if she wasn't staring so hard at his neck.  
  
"So, anyway," Harry was telling Ron, "tell the others to be at practice around five. And tell them to bring their cloaks."  
  
Ginny shivered at the very sound of his voice. Deeper and more vibrant, it was. Much nicer than most boys'. Ron's was a prime example. It was changing and it was changing drastically. It went up and down faster than a Muggle elevator. Ginny imagined what Harry would do if she told him exactly how shivery his voice made her feel, how tingly she became when his emerald eyes paused on hers. She shook her head.  
  
"Are you coming to watch the practice with me, Ginny?" Ginny looked up, startled, at the sound of Hermione's voice.  
  
"I-I guess so," she said, trying not to sound too thrilled. She was more than thrilled - she was estatic. She felt like running up and grabbing Harry's perfect face and snogging him blatantly. That, of course, would be completely out of the question. "When is it?" Ginny tried to sound inquisitve, as if she hadn't memorized the time the moment it had tumbled out of Harry's perfect mouth.  
  
"Five. Bring a cloak." Ginny's heart skipped about twenty beats. Did she just imagine it - and she couldn't have - or had Harry spoken to her? Directly to her? No, there was no mistaking his bright eyes looking over Ron's flaming head and at her. She willed her hand to stop its ruddy trembling, trying to force her Weasley genes from making her face go red.  
  
"O-okay."  
  
'You are so articulate, Gin', she thought miserably to herself. She chanced a glance at Harry, but he was talking to Ron again. 'Hang Ron', she thought viciously.  
  
"I'm obsessed," she mumbled, wanting to bury her face in her hands and wipe every particle of her that loved Harry away. Then, though, Ginny Weasley would not exist.  
  
After breakfast, she gathered up her books and trudged to Potions, feeling her euphoria at Harry's directly-to-her words drain away. She was obsessed, and hopelessly so. She had always, it seemed, been obsessed with Harry James Potter. Actually, it'd only been about five years, but it seemed decades longer. Of course Ginny, like every wizard-born child, had grown up with his name ringing in her ears. The Boy Who Lived - famous before he could walk and talk Harry J. Potter - the hero who'd defeated Voldemort. She developed a starstruck admiration of him, hearing recounts of his remarkable tale. The first time she saw him in person, unremarkable, skinny, messy-haired Harry J. Potter, she had loved him. Her obession began to grow, feeding off every expression he took on, every tone of his measured voice. When she was eleven and twelve, she was hopeless and stupid. What had she been thinking, sending him that singing Valentine? Ginny still went crimson at the memory. But her love for Harry had increased and matured - she had learned how to control herself in his presence. Almost casual, she was. Who was she kidding?  
  
Walking unseeingly down to the frigid dungeons of Snape's classroom, Ginny reflected over her consuming love. She trudged with such dejection that she walked in late. "Detenion, Weasley," the Potionsmaster snapped at her instantly. "And five points from Gryffindor." Uh-oh, she thought morosely, He's in a bloody bad mood. Ginny practically flung her bag and books onto her desk and bowed her head.  
  
"You okay, Gin?"  
  
Ginny shrugged her shoulders, looking into the worried face of Cynthia Sypniewskie. "I'm fine, I guess."  
  
Cynthia gave her a sympathetic nod. Like a Sypniewskie could understand. Cynthia and her twin brother Cory were perfect in every physical aspect. Cynthia had no trouble with the opposite gender. Cynthia was going steady with Cooper Hayden, the cutest boy in their year, without question. Ginny tried to concentrate her consuming envy into something useful, like brewing her Follicular Solution. Snape eyed her suspiciously, she was working with such rigor and haste.  
  
Finally, when the potion was the correct color, Ginny sank into her chair, watching Cynthia's go murky brown, feeling her envy drain away. "Add your crushed beetle wings," she whispered quickly. "Hurry, now. Then add a dollop of dragon's blood. All right?" Cynthia shot her a grateful look before adding the ingredients. The murky-browniness billowed away, leaving it properly clear.  
  
'THANKS,' Cynthia mouthed, looking relieved.  
  
"Pair up!" Snape barked. "Let me see...Sypniewskie and McElrath...Flowers and Twipp...Yes...Weasley and Rosier." Ginny's heart plummeted. Snape had paired her with a Slytherin. Ian Rosier, at that.  
  
Gathering up her cauldron, she moved to his side of the classroom, her face burning dark plum.  
  
****  
  
TBC 


End file.
